The Anguish of Norrington
by Elros
Summary: Just a little something I wrote for fun...please read and review to tell me if it's worth continuing :D


The Anguish of Norrington  
  
Just a little something I cooked up one LONG evening. What if the wigged one from Pirates was in fact NOT happy about the events at the end of the film? I've even made a slight attempt to stay in 19th Century, i.e. proper, English! :D Please read and review and tell me if it's any good. Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of the characters from the film. Apologies to anyone whose romantic ideas of Jack Davenport's character may be dashed by this. :D  
  
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i "Oh I think we can afford to give them one day's head start," I say, giving an extremely forced grin in the general direction of Elizabeth and that pirate-born upstart, Turner.  
  
Curse them! Curse that Sparrow character! And curse the rules of a gentleman that oblige me to behave like a surrendering ponce when I want to do, really, is to run over there, run my sword through that jumped-up blacksmith, order the entire fleet to chase and sink that poor excuse of a ship, a ghost one at that, grab Elizabeth and sail away with her by my side. People would talk, but I probably wouldn't care by that point. Unfortunately, my sense of British scruples and moral upbringing mean that I can't really bring myself to do it. I have to get out of here; any more of those two canoodling and I fear I may vomit in full sight of the Governor. I'd venture that that would NOT be good for my career. Well, I still have my health, my rather good job and control of a fleet! Oh, I sound so pathetic. I haven't got the girl of my dreams and that is everything. To think, I'll never have her, with her perfectly-shaped face and overwhelmingly attractive body. Pirates get all the luck, eh? /i  
  
Norrington opened the door to his quarters, threw his wig down with force onto his bureau and slammed the oak door behind him. Because of the heaviness of it, the door made a resounding echo around the fort and groups of soldiers posted around glanced at each other, wondering what could have put their commander in such a bad mood. Many of them were still in the infirmary after the escapades of Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl and blacksmith Will Turner, who, by many accounts, was the spitting image of Bootstrap Bill. The latter had even, in his infinite self-confidence and flamboyance, taken to wearing a hat with a large peacock feather in it. He had clearly been influenced by the equally...defiantly...dressed Sparrow, however with two important flaws. Firstly, Sparrow admittedly pulled it off, as he had a sense of style about him. Secondly, apparently no-one had told Turner that there were no Musketeers wanted or needed in the Caribbean. Norrington paced up and down his quarters, which were actually quite small considering that, bar the Governor himself, he was the most powerful and influential man in Port Royal. What had he been told by that Major on a tour of duty in India? Oh, "Nice guys finish last. Always." Damned right, it seemed. Pirates, during the last few weeks had half- destroyed Port Royal and remained unpunished, stolen ships, escaped hangings and got THE girl. By comparison, HE had never broken a law in his life and yet had merely been rewarded with a small room, smaller than a captain's cabin, didn't get the girl and despite controlling a fleet (of three ships...impressive), didn't OWN any of the ships, unlike that pirate scum, Sparrow. It almost seems as though the story of my life has been taken out of my control and to that of Pirates of the Caribbean. Strange.  
  
He changed quietly into his beige working gear and walked along the side walls of the fort. The usually relaxing sight of the beautiful Caribbean sunset with its vivid purples, oranges and reds did nothing to soothe his raging spirit. However, like any self-respecting officer, his voice and face would display nothing of this. It just wasn't the done thing to display your motions needlessly, especially not for an officer. The reassuring hardness of the stone beneath was the only thing to remind where he was as his thoughts wandered. When he reached the south-east corner he backtracked and stopped beside Sergeant Jenkins. Now Jenkins was a beast of a man, positively bulging with muscle. Norrington himself was admirably tall, standing at 6 foot, but even he was dwarfed by 6 foot 10 Jenkins.  
  
"How's the watch, sergeant?" he asked "Can't complain, sir. I'm doin' better than those chaps appointed to watch t' hanging," Jenkins grinned "You know, I could have you locked for that insolence, soldier?" "Really? Sorry, sir. Is there anything I can do to make it up t' you, sir?" Jenkins half-mockingly answered "Well, as a matter of fact there is."  
  
Jenkins blinked, slightly worried. Norrington seemed genuinely peeved. Had he gone too far, this time?  
  
"Ask someone to relieve you, change into your working rig and join me in the weapons store in five minutes. Is that clear?" "Crystal, sir." 


End file.
